


this, and love too, will ruin us

by Amber_Flicker



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Cafe Leblanc (Persona 5), Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Snippets, Trust Issues, liminal spaces, mono no aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Flicker/pseuds/Amber_Flicker
Summary: Akechi Goro, Kurusu Akira, and conversations at Leblanc.





	this, and love too, will ruin us

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Scheherazade by Richard Siken.

**I.**

  
"You look tired," he says, quiet even though there's no need to be when only the two of them are in the room. Goro doesn't reply for a moment, but Kurusu knows better than to interrupt the silence before he's ready to.

"Perhaps I am."

"New case?"

Goro laughs, and the sound rings hollow in the empty cafe. Or maybe that's the hollowness inside him. He doesn't linger on it. "No, old case."

Kurusu stares at him, and he pretends he doesn't notice, as you do. For a while the only sound is his cup against the counter. Then, "Is catching them really that important?"

He considers going on about justice, or the law, or morals. He doesn't. Goro can have that sort of shallow conversation anywhere, with anyone; it's the stuff he spouts on interviews, and this is no place. He comes here specifically because he doesn't feel that pressure. And Kurusu would see through it anyway, it's what Goro likes about talking to him specifically. "You forget that I have no say in what cases I take."

"I didn't know you had none. You seem pretty dedicated to the Phantom Thieves case, either way."

"Not solving things is how one loses their job as a detective," Of course, that's not the real issue that is pressing him to solve it. But there's no need to get anyone else caught in his own mess, least of all one of the few people whose company he appreciates instead of tolerates.

"Losing a job over one failed case seems a little harsh," Kurusu pours more coffee into his cup.

"My boss is more than a little harsh," slips out before he can stop it.

If Kurusu notices the edge to his tone, he doesn't mention it. "Well, If you ever want a change in careers, Leblanc could use more help."

"I think not, but the offer is appreciated."

He wonders why those words don't feel like a lie on his lips.

  
**II.**

  
"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you hadn't made one certain decision?" He asks the question more on impulse than anything, which is unusual in and of itself. Something about the atmosphere in Leblanc always makes him more prone to speaking unfiltered. It's something he thinks about more often than he'd admit, the idea that maybe- definitely- he wouldn't be where he is if he'd just done one thing differently. He wouldn't be dealing with any of these _problems._

Then again, he suspects by now that Kurusu is one of his current problems. It would perhaps not be so much of a problem if Goro hadn't let himself get attached, yet here he is. Still saying things he shouldn't to someone he's fairly certain is the worst person to say said things to.

"Don't we all?"

"I couldn't tell you," it's not as if he knows many people his age, after all.

Kurusu nods at this. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He wishes he could say he didn't consider it. The fact that he doesn't want anyone else involved, at least not in any way so personal, remains. "No, not particularly."

"Alright. I'm here if you change your mind."

 _You always are._ He thinks, and maybe if he'd been around a little sooner, Goro's life wouldn't have ended up going down the destructive path it is. But if onlys and regrets won't do him any good, and they won't change anything. So he lets the thoughts get pushed away in favor of less introspective things, and doesn't think on it again for the rest of the day.

  
**III.**

  
Kurusu pretends he doesn't know Goro is going to try to kill him, and Goro pretends he doesn't know Kurusu knows. That's how this works. That's how this fragile balance remains.

Maybe it's the setting that offsets everything; the outside, the others, the metaverse do not exist in this place, not when it's just them, and that means for a little while things can be peaceful.

It's not going to stay like this much longer. The safe zone Leblanc provides won't save any of them, least of all Goro himself.

"You seem conflicted about something," he says. Goro wonders if he's really that obvious or if Kurusu is just that good at reading him. Neither answer is particularly appealing, because either one means he's become more open. He resolves himself to keep people further away. He used to be better at that.

The stress must finally be getting to him and breaking down his composure. Or maybe it's the cafe. Or maybe it's Kurusu.

He wishes he knew.

"What makes you say that?" The words come after what is probably too long.

"It just seems that way."

It's vague. It means he can't fix whatever is giving it away; he hates feeling this vulnerable, but then again, it's not as bad while he's _here_ for some reason. Goro has never been able to figure out why time and feelings seem to pass differently here; maybe knowing would make the affect lesser.

  
Maybe if he sits here long enough, he thinks as he stares into his coffee, the conflict will be untangled.

  
(It isn't.)

 

**IV.**

  
Goro tries to tell himself it isn't anything as sentimental as guilt that makes him sit down at this place one more time. It's just that he won't be able to come here again after tomorrow, and his reason for coming here will be gone anyway. He thinks even the strange atmosphere of the cafe wouldn't be enough to change that; he's never seen ghosts here, after all.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters except taking down Shido.

He repeats this thought as Kurusu sets his usual in front of him and looks at him all too trustingly. His irrational, naive desire to trust Goro is going to get him killed, and not even metaphorically. He tries to wash the bitter taste in his mouth away with the coffee. It doesn't work.

"You're quiet today. Something on your mind?"

And damn him, he knows something is on Goro's mind, and he almost thinks he might know what that something is. There's a strange edge to his eyes, and he can't identify it. But surely even Kurusu wouldn't be stupid enough to stick around to be murdered. He'd disappear if he suspected it was time.

Goro tries to tell himself he isn't the one to blame for what's going to happen.

  
**V.**

  
It's a slow day.

Some people have been in, but his interactions with them seem more a blur now than reality. The cafe is empty now, though.

Akechi sits at his usual place at the counter.

"It's quiet today," he says.

Akira pours a cup for him and places it down, unphased. "It is."

Most days seem quieter, with the metaverse gone. Things seem to drift by slowly, even more so when he's in Leblanc. He misses the rush, not that he's ever said so. Not that he ever would. He doesn't want to seem discontent with all they'd accomplished, but he isn't quite cut out for this sort of peace. He's on the edge of being happy and still too far from it. Akira hasn't felt like himself in a month. Or maybe he hasn't felt like himself since Akechi died. He's uncertain which it is. He doesn't care to find out.

"You know, your friends wouldn't think less of you. Not that I can say so from experience, but that's what friends are for. To listen."

"They don't need to know."

Akechi shakes his head, sips at his coffee. "Well, it's your decision."

He wants to reach out and touch him, or sit down next to him, _something,_ but he thinks it might break the fragile balance the room has settled into. After all, their interactions as such have always been with Akechi in that place and Akira on the other side. No reason to change it now.

"Do you regret it?" He asks.

"I regret a lot of things." It's an answer and it's not. "You did what you could. It's just that there probably wasn't anything that could've stopped me, not by the time we met."

Akira wants to say he could've tried harder, but he doesn't, because... There really wasn't anything he could do. He's accepted that by now, mostly. That doesn't mean he doesn't wish it could've ended differently. He'll probably never be over it completely. Something seems to settle when he looks at Akechi, though, and maybe that was the point of this.

"Will I see you again?" He asks as the other stands.

"I don't know," Akechi admits. "Probably not." _Maybe after you die too._

He lets the idea of that ring through him, and it's easier to accept than he thought it would be. "Alright." He doesn't say goodbye, because that seems too final. He finds he doesn't like finality much, anymore.

Akechi smiles, small and more genuine than most he's seen before, and when Akira blinks, he's gone.

 

The cup on the counter is empty.

**Author's Note:**

> "I won't write for this fandom," I say
> 
> "What if Leblanc was a liminal space," says my brain.
> 
> As always, the tradition of my first fic for any fandom being angst continues. If I ever write for P5 again it will probably also be angst bc akechi is extremely relatable and I must project onto relatable characters.
> 
> cliches-and-coffee is my writing blog, a-logicalruse is my anime blog.


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